


Shirene

by SamanthaRose (Drazyrohk)



Series: Sylthaniel [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Death, Death Goddess, Gen, Magic, Original work - Freeform, Paladins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4746071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drazyrohk/pseuds/SamanthaRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shirene was one of the unfortunates, the downcast. Still, it hurt to see the mad light in her eyes beginning to flicker out...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shirene

Shirene was no stranger to the dimly lit building they used to house the people who needed to be removed from the public for an evening or two. Sometimes, during colder winters, the guards would bring the less fortunate in on petty crimes to keep them from freezing to death on the streets.

Ron Sorrel found himself rounding up Shirene one late afternoon after receiving word that she had stolen garments from a local seamstress, a crime that was far too common among this particular crowd. The shabby young woman was huddled in a corner between two small buildings, the dress clutched to her chest and the silk shoes already on her feet, and Ron found that he didn't have the heart to take the items from her without first hearing her story.

People like Shirene didn't steal fancy dresses for the sake of warmth. They didn't steal them without what they believed was good reason.

Shirene had a look about her that Ron recognized... illness and madness took the street people too often, especially these days. They got a hollow look to them, their eyes getting glazed and distant, and though the mad ones smiled, it was easy to see they didn't have long before the Order of Fatima was called in to remove their bodies from the darker places they crawled to in the end.

Shirene told Ron that she had never fancied herself a dancer as he escorted her out of the alley and down the street. "But with these, I might be ready."

"Ready for what?" Ron asked, Shirene smiling at him brilliantly, her mad eyes glittering.

"For the ball." Shirene replied. "I was invited to the ball. To dance, to dance along with the violin."

To Ron's knowledge, there was no ball coming up in the future. He nodded slowly and looked at her with a touch of sadness in his eyes.

"The Lady plays the violin while the Lord and I dance. And the little girl will laugh and take my hands and we will whirl along to the music." As she spoke, Shirene tightened her grip on the dress, her gaze taking on that far away quality Ron was weary of seeing. "At the ball, there will be no suffering. Only warmth. Song. Grace."

"Where is this ball taking place?" Ron asked, holding the door open for her as they reached their destination. 

"At the Gates." Shirene informed him. "And all the others, with their pale faces and their soft sighs, they'll all be there with us."

She sat in the holding room as he filled out her paperwork. She couldn't write, not even her name, but Ron had done this enough times that he didn't need to ask her any questions.

"All that's left is to get changed and wait." She told him as he directed her to one of the vacant cells.

"Shirene, I'm afraid you can't keep the dress. It doesn't belong to you." Ron tried to tell her, the young woman growing rather agitated at his words.

"But without it, I cannot go! Without it, he won't know it's me!" She cried, Ron letting out a gentle sigh.

"The Lord won't know?" He asked, Shirene shaking her head furiously.

"My dance partner. He's coming to get me. I need to be ready!" She stated. She swayed a little where she stood. "He's not as graceful as the Lord, but he knows the sound of the violin and he knows it well."

Ron watched her as she held the dress up to herself, watched as her haunted eyes fixed up on him... Ron Sorrel knew she didn't have long.

"You can wear it to the ball." He found himself saying, seeing her face light up. "But then you have to give it back."

He helped her tie the ribbons on the back of the dress. With it on, she almost looked pretty. With it on, she looked so happy.

The other guards watched with pity as she stood with an expectant expression in the cell. Ron found himself wondering if someone was actually coming to take her away to some mysterious ball, worried that her madness was catching.

After a few hours, during which he chose to stay at the desk and work on processing those other unfortunates that came and went, he saw Shirene hurry to the front of the cell, her eyes wide.

"How do I look?" She called, Ron pausing before getting to his feet. "Quickly! He's coming!"

"You look... you look lovely, Shirene. I'm sure you'll be the prettiest girl at the ball." Ron said, a fleeting sense of panic rippling through him. Who was coming? Her mysterious dance partner? No one at all?

"Oh." Shirene let out a soft gasp, hands clasping together in a nervous fashion. "Oh, I do hope we're not late."

Another few moments passed, Ron watching the door for any sign of the one Shirene was waiting for, and Shirene fussing with her hair and clothes. She grew very still, eyes widening when a strange sense of distortion filled the air, and Ron found himself staring up at a darkly dressed figure that stepped from the shadows.

"Will we be late?" Shirene asked, one hand reaching towards the figure.

For a moment, no one moved, the figure registering just as much confusion as Ron was. Then the tall figure moved, taking Shirene's hand. Ron saw her shiver, then the figure bowed it's head.

"My apologies, fair lady." A high male voice spoke. "I was stricken by your beauty. Of course we won't be late... it's our party, they can't begin without us."

Ron took a breath and Shirene stood beaming, her mad eyes welling up with tears.

"Wait." Ron heard himself say as the figure turned to look at him. "What's going on?"

"He's my dance partner. We're going to the ball now." Shriene said softly, a hint of awe in her voice. "Don't worry... I'll give the dress back when the ball is over."

Ron met the eyes of the tall man, eyes the color of candle flame, and he found himself overcome and speechless.

"We don't want to keep them waiting." The dark figure murmured, holding his hand out to Ron. "The fair lady can't go to the ball while she's locked in a cage, now can she?"

Numbly, Ron fished the keys from the pocket of his jacket. The fingers that brushed his while the keys exchanged hands were cold...

"I do wish you would come." Shirene told him once she was out of the cell, her steps unsteady. "But you didn't get an invitation."

Ron slowly shook his head. The madness had never been more clear in the eyes of the young woman, but Ron wasn't sure she was the only one here who was mad.

Maybe he was the mad one.

The tall man gazed at Shirene from under his dark hood, the girl staring back with admiration and expectation. The yellow eyes of Shirene's dance partner fixed on Ron, who was now too afraid to look away.

"Sorry for the inconvenience." The taller male said.

"I will try to save a dance for you." Shirene told him, then they both disappeared together.

As he stood in the middle of the room, Ron found himself wondering if it had all been a dream.


End file.
